If I Die
by wyverna
Summary: Zack's dying, so what will he do on his last day on earth? {R&R} Full summary inside.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing (are you really surprised?). Ooh, apart from the doctor! Haha, and Summer's brother, Jean!

Summary: Zack's dying, and it's his last day – how does he spend it?

Notes: Very random idea, no idea how I got it. Was watching _EastEnders_ at the time, which is unusual for me! One-shot.

* * *

Zack sighed as he perched on the edge of the uncomfortable bed, rocking back and forth. He glanced up sharply as the doctor entered the room, a young man in his early thirties.

"Are those - ?"

"The results, yes."

"And?"

"I'm very sorry, Mr Mooneyham, but it's terminal. Tomorrow is your last day to live." The bottom lurched out of his stomach, and for one dark moment he thought he was already dead. He passed a hand in front of his eyes, but the world looked no clearer.

"No... no..."

"I'm sorry, Mr Mooneyham, I really am."

"No, you're not!" spat Zack bitterly. "How can you be? Look at you – you've only lived about half your life, not even that! I'm twenty – _twenty_, and my life is already over!" The doctor was watching him with compassion, pity even. Zack didn't want that. He didn't want any of that.

"Look, if I can make a suggestion, Mr Mooneyham -"

"No, you damn well can't! You know what they used to call me? Zack Attack. I haven't been called that for over a decade now, but you've no idea how much I miss it." The doctor started to say something, but decided not to.

"Mr Mooneyham – Zack Attack, if you will." It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but the strange words soothed Zack's troubled and frightened soul. "If I may _now_ make a suggestion?" He waited for Zack's approval, but got only a bowed head. The doctor decided to continue anyway. "Make a list."

"What? Look, doctor, I'm sure you know as well as anyone that I don't have much time." He laughed – a short laugh, with no humor in it. The doctor stopped a shiver; these people scared him. People with no time to live – they might as well be zombies, the living dead. He gave a quick explanation.

"Make a list, and tomorrow do everything you want to do before you die." Zack raised an eyebrow.

"Can I do things when I'm... in this condition?"

"Apart from the fact that you will die, Mr Mooneyham, you are in perfect health." There it was, that laugh again. The doctor watched in silence as Zack slung his jacket over his shoulder and walked out, pausing to snatch the test results from the doctor's outstretched hand.

* * *

It was four o'clock on a Friday, but somehow the playground was deserted, except for one lone figure seated forlornly on a single swing. He slowly moved backwards and forwards, head down and the tips of his feet trailing on the ground. He lifted his hands, and pushed his shaggy brown hair away from his face. He caught sight of the crumpled paper in his hands, and read it again, as though seeing it for the first time, even though he'd been doing the same thing for the past half hour, ever since he'd left the doctor's earlier.

One day.

One. Day.

It wasn't fair! He slammed his fist down on his knee, ignoring the sudden jolt of pain that surged through him. One day. He shook his head, and rested it in his hands. One day. That was all. Just one day. His hand found a small, black notebook that he kept with him all the time, but he didn't make a list. He wrote something else instead.

* * *

"Hello?" said a strange voice. Zack took a deep breath.

"Is... is this Summer Hathaway?" he asked nervously.

"No, I'm afraid this is her husband," came the reply. Zack almost dropped the phone. He'd just realized how much he wanted to meet her again.

"Su-Summer's _married_?" He managed to bring the words out with a struggle.

"Wait – no – give me – aargh! - die, freak – no – but -" Zack frowned.

"Hello?" he asked, confusedly.

"Hello, who's speaking?" Summer's recognizable tones came over the phone, and Zack sighed in relief.

"Summer? I didn't know you were married."

"Is _that_ what he said? I'll kill him, I swear -"

"Who?"

"Oh," he could feel her blush down the phone, "my brother."

"You still _live_ with your _brother_?" Her eyes narrowed, he could tell. He knew her so well – where had it all gone wrong? They'd drifted apart... was it only now that he really wondered why?

"Look, I don't think you're in any position to make judgment when I don't even know who you are!" He laughed, and that just seemed to infuriate her further. "Who _is_ this?"

"Zack," he said quietly. "Zack Mooneyham." He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"_Zack?_"

"Yuh-huh, Summer. I-I was wondering..." He was wondering why it had been so easy to talk to her before, when she hadn't known who she was. He was wondering why he'd been so upset when her brother Jean had said she was married. He was wondering a lot of things, but the only way he had even a slim chance of finding out the answers was to finish his sentence.

"Iwaswonderingifyouwannagooutsometime," he mumbled, his words all tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out.

"I'm sorry?" she said, with a slight catch to her voice, as though she was holding back laughter. His face burned, and he contemplated hanging up the phone right then, but something held him back.

"I was wondering if you wanna go out sometime," he repeated. "To... to the Eiffel Tower." Why not kill two birds with one stone?

"To the _Eiffel Tower_?" _Don't tell her you're dying_, he thought furiously, _don't put her off, or make her feel sorry for you._

"I'm Zack Mooneyham," he said, not meaning to say it out loud, "and either you want to go out with me or you don't."

"Oh, Zack," she said, again with the same catch in her voice, "I would _love_ to go out with you," and now he knew that the catch wasn't that she was trying not to laugh, it was that she was trying not to cry.

"Well, then," he said, and this time it was _him_ that was holding back laughter, hysterical, happy, _ecstatic_ laughter. "Where do you live?" She told him, and he laughed – it was all he was capable of doing. "I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said, "early." She agreed, and he hung up, and laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

* * *

On Saturday morning, at four am, Zack was knocking on Summer's door. She answered it straight away, and silently slipped out of the house, carefully locking the door behind her. It was a crisp spring morning, and not even the birds were singing. They walked in silence to Zack's car, and both get in. Neither of them said a word: they were both too wrapped up in their own thoughts, until an hour later at the airport, where they both spoke at once.

"Why?" Zack was the first to respond.

"Why what?"

"Why did you suddenly call me up out of the blue and ask me to go to the Eiffel Tower with you, of all places?"

"What, don't you want to go there?" She laughed delightedly, and took his hand.

"Of course I do! Just why now, after all these years?" He shrugged, and looked down at his worn navy-blue Converse.

"No reason." Summer made him look at her.

"I can tell when you're lying, Zack. Don't make me use your full name." He mumbled something incoherently, so she sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this, but tell me, _Zackary Joseph Mooneyham._"

"No," he said stubbornly, then gave in. "I'm dying, and today is my last day alive." Summer stopped dead.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" she hissed.

Zack stared in disbelief. "What? How could you even _say_ something like that?" He reached into the back pocket of his scruffy black cords and pulled out the test results. "_Here_," he said, shoving it at her angrily. She read over it in a glance, and her dark eyes widened.

"Oh," she said, then, "_Oh_. Oh, Zack, I'm so sorry." She gulped back tears, and he saw in dismay her doe-like eyes brimmed up with tears, which started to pour down her face.

"Oh no," he said, surprised that she was crying for him, and feeling guilty – crying for _him_, after he'd only bothered to get in touch with her last night. "Don't cry, Summer, please don't cry." She tried, it was obvious, but it didn't work. He hugged her impulsively, and as his arms tightened around her he knew it was the best thing to do.

"Oh, Zack," she snuffled, "I-I don't want you to die." He laughed.

"Me either." She pulled back from him, and looked up into his face with amazement.

"How can you joke about something like this?" He thought about laughing again, but figured that might not be the most tactful thing. In the end, he summed up the whole situation in five words.

"What else can I do?"

* * *

Summer clutched Zack's hand tightly across the aisle. He knew why she'd got over his bombshell so fast; she was doing what she'd always done when it came to things she didn't want to hear – pretending it wasn't real. It was selfish of him, really. Coming into her life for just one day, then disappearing forever. Summer broke into his thoughts with a helpless squeak, and a tightening of her grip on his hand. He looked over at her.

"What's up?"

"I'm..." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. "I'm a, ah... I'm a little scared of flying." He frowned.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Do you think I'd bother you with something like this if I wasn't?"

"Um... I never knew."

"Well, it's not something I go around advertising!" she screeched, and he held back a smile, knowing she wouldn't find it funny. She always got snappy and scary when she was scared herself.

"Technically," he said, just thinking out loud, "you don't have a fear of flying, but more of a fear of _crashing_-"

"Very helpful, Zackary." The plane took off, and Summer clutched his hand more tightly, causing Zack to wince. Halfway through the flight they suffered some turbulence, and Summer went as white as a sheet. All the color drained out of her face, and she looked _terrified_.

"Hey," said Zack, leaning over, "are you ok?" Summer glanced at him and started to say something sarcastic, but stopped herself.

"Not really," she said, with a forced smile. "But... thanks."

Finally it was all over, and with a relieved sigh Summer managed to detach herself from Zack's hand. They made it off the plane, and got onto the coach. It was an uneventful ride, and Zack passed the time by counting the gold strands of hair lightened by the sun. She caught him looking at her a few times, and smiled. When they got to Paris at about six am, he managed to convince himself to take her hand, and she let him.

"Is it only six am?" he asked, with a frown. "I thought it'd be later... it took quite a while to fly here," he added, with a yawn. Summer laughed, and leaned into him, and Zack put his arm around her. They looked so natural, like a young couple in love, which they were. No-one would've thought that this was Zack's last day alive, they both looked so happy, and to tell the truth they'd both forgotten.

"You're forgetting the time difference, silly," she said smiling, and Zack smacked his forehead with his free hand.

"Of course! The time difference," he said, smiling back at her. "How could I forget? This does mean, luckily, that if we go up the Eiffel Tower _right now_, we can catch the sunrise." Summer squealed loudly, and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, Zack, that would be _awesome_!"

"Whoa, calm down!" he replied laughing, and noticing the sparkle in her eyes, and the way the coolness of the air made her cheeks go pink. "Is this your lifelong desire?" he teased.

"Yes, actually! Now come on, let's go!" She started pulling him along, half walking, half dancing, and he laughed – again – and let her.

At the top of the Eiffel Tower was a little table set up, with a red-checked tablecloth, a bottle of white wine and two little straw chairs.

"Oh, _Zack_!" screamed Summer, flinging her arms around him. "Is this for _us_?"

"Um... I, yeah, kinda... do you like it?" he said, looking up at her hopefully through his fringe. She stepped back.

"Do you really need to ask?" she said, looking at him coolly, and he flushed.

"That's a, um... a yes, then?" She nodded, and they sat down. "Shall I pour, _mademoiselle_?"

"_Oui, monsieur. J'aime vin, non, j'**adore** vin blanc! Merci_," she added, as he filled up her glass. "So..._ ca va?_" Zack laughed, shaking his head.

"C'mon, Sum, you know I don't speak French!" She smiled, and they held hands over the table as the sun rose behind them.

* * *

At last the sun set, and Zack began to get worried. They were staying the night in a hotel in Paris, and he didn't want Summer to wake up and the morning and find him dead. It was becoming more real to him now, and he was doing his best to keep Summer's mind off it, but as darkness fell it suddenly hit both of them.

_Zack was going to die tonight._

And there was nothing either of them could do about it.

As they went up to their hotel, Summer held Zack's hand tightly, her eyes filled with tears. "Come on, Summer," Zack said gently, attempting to prise her hand off his wrist, "you've got to let me go into my room. I don't know how I'm going to die, and I don't want you to see me if I'm in pain."

Summer flinched, but she bit her lip and refused to let go. "I'm coming with you," she said firmly, but her voice broke slightly at the end. "I... I'm staying with you in your last moments," she said more determinedly, and this time her voice didn't break at all.

Zack sighed. "Summer, you don't have to do this. I..." He paused, and thought about what he was going to say. "I know you appreciate me taking you out, and doing all this, but..." He took another breath. "You probably feel guilty, as well, because I've just taken you to Paris and you may feel like you don't deserve this, or owe me something, but this doesn't mean that you have to... _watchmedie_," and the last words came out in a rush.

"I want to," she said, and he knew that she meant that.

"Fine," he said, giving in, "but... please." He didn't know why he said please, but she did, and she nodded. Hand in hand, the two went into Zack's room to face the inevitable.

* * *

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

_Gong..._

"Twelve," Zack muttered under his breath. "Midnight. How appropriate," he added with a bitter smile. As the night wore on his strength was leaving him. He was now laid on his back on his bed, with his eyes closed. Summer was knelt by the side of the bed, clasping one of his hands in both of hers. They looked like a picture, both still, but unfortunately it was real.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, through half closed lips, "I'm really, really sorry." Summer glanced up.

"Sorry for what?" she asked concerned, adding "You've got nothing to be sorry _for_."

"I-I have," he mumbled, barely able to move his mouth. "I'm sorry for coming back into your life, for just one day, and then leaving you like this. It's selfish, and I'm sorry."

"It's _not_ selfish!" Summer exclaimed passionately. "How dare you say that!" Zack was taken aback by the force of her outburst, and turned his head slightly, waiting for her to explain. "I-it-" She stopped to collect her thoughts. "You came back into my life, and that's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Staying out of my life – now, _that_ would have been selfish."

"How do you mean?" asked Zack as curiously as he could with so little strength left.

"Well..." She blushed, and looked down. "I... if you'd died and never contacted me again, then we'd never have had this day, we'd never – _I'd_ never have realized that... well, I love you, Zack." She continued to stare at the floor for a couple of minutes, but there was no reply. She looked up at him, and for the first time felt the hand that lay in hers. It was cold, icy cold, and with a sinking of her heart she knew that he was dead.

"I love you too, Summer," she muttered, and closed her eyes. She'd never hear those words from his mouth, never again have a day like today, never be able to tell him how she felt the first time she saw him and never know how he felt the first time _he_ saw _her_. Never get married in a church, with a white silk dress – she couldn't bring herself to love anybody but him.

Now it was all too much, and the tears that had been threatening to come all day finally spilled up and over – hot, bitter tears running down her cheeks. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed, trying to tune out the images in her head, but not managing to.

Never have a little Summer running around, reciting the 12 Rules of Grammar. Never have a little Zack, shredding a miniature Flying V. She hadn't realized how much she loved him, how much she wanted to have a life with him until it was all over, and there was no future for them, none at all.

_I love you, Zack._

_I always will._


	2. Gay Little Add On

_I personally don't like this ending, it's too sappy and cliched, and I'm a pessmist who likes sad ending, but if you want a happy ending (that in my opinion ruins the story) then I felt obligated to post this, having written it. If you think it's fine as it is, then;  
**DON'T READ THIS!**_

* * *

Summer was cleaning out Zack's room, for the first time since he'd died. She hadn't wanted to do it, but his family was dead, and there was no-one else. She found a little black notebook, and opened it, seeing Zack's familiar writing scrawled across the cover.

_**Keep out – Very Private!**_

Those words were an invitation to come in, and she had to know what was in there.

_**April 4th**_

_**I just had the worst day of my life. Ha. What life? I'm not going to have a life. I'm dying tomorrow. Tomorrow is my last day left to live. How have I lived my life? I've wasted it. Let me see – I dropped out of high school to try and make it with the band. That's when we first started having problems. A month after, we broke up. 17, just 17 and my life was over. I got stuck in some dead-end job, working in a record shop. Then some guy recognized how much I love music, and instead of working the tills, I got to do promos, stuff like that.**_

_**I was lucky, very lucky. But I knew that. And even though I knew that, I didn't really regret anything. I didn't regret losing touch with the band. Freddy? Probably dead right now, from liver poisoning. And his girlfriend Michelle – stereotypical groupie – probably off with some other guy. But I don't care. I only miss my guitar – and Summer.**_

_**Summer Anne Hathaway. I love her. I really do.**_

_**I need to tell her, just once, before I die. Just say those words.**_

_**  
"I love you, Summer." Because they're true. But I never will, I'll never get the words out. So I'll write them here, and hope... I don't know, hope that maybe she'll know someday. I love you, Summer.**_

_**Zack J. Mooneyham.**_


End file.
